Morning Light
by keru.m
Summary: Read the AN before reading this one. Fair warning.


Disclaimer: Don't own'em

A/N: I should warn you, I went the character death route. Don't hate me; it's all I could come up with to meet a challenge posted on the HBX, and am nervous about posting this. Also, I am working on another two-part story. It's about 7/8 completed, but that last eighth is really being difficult. Hopefully, I will finish it soon and you can stay tuned.

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**Morning Light**

It's the silence that gets me, mostly. When I was a kid, I used to sit on the front porch of my grandmother's house, watching the damp morning fog float across treetops, dipping into valleys and seeping between blades of grass. The world seemed lost in those early morning hours, watching gram milk the cows and mom prepare steaming bowls of oatmeal. But each morning, the sun would slowly rise, its slim golden fingers waking the slumbering trees, cajoling the flowers to open their sweet centres, whispering promises.

The mornings are just like that over here. Silent and creeping, a thick blanket of quiet. But without the silky warm caress of the morning sun. The sunlight is cooler up here, a kiss that flits across skin without much substance. You would have liked it, I think. You used to tell me how you loved dipping your toes in the sun. How much you loved the desert in the morning, when all the cold was chased away. It's different up here, but still beautiful. Damp earth and pine, cool waters and the sharp air. It soothes the heart.

Winter is coming. There's a chill in the air ... It'll be your first winter here, won't it? Hopefully you won't feel the cold like you used to. Every year since you moved to DC you got that seasonal cold you dreaded. Each year, same month. You always had incredible timing.

Where was I? Winter. I thought I would spend the Christmas season up here. Mom insists I should spend it with her, like we did last year, but my heart isn't in it. Don't be upset about that. I know I had promised you that I wouldn't do this sort of thing, but you have to leave me this one promise to break. I need to be near you.

Bud called to check in on me. I told him not to worry, that you are taking good care of me. He didn't sound convinced. He also invited me to spend Christmas with him and Harriet and the kids. I didn't tell him, but all that noise and ruckus, the kids and paper thin cheer would drive me insane. I wouldn't be able to think, to remember. I need the quiet to hang my memories on.

I put up our Christmas stockings today. Do you remember when you stitched them for us, last year? A green one for you and a red one for me. They are so hideous, with crooked stitches and uneven ends. I made such fun of you over those ridiculous stockings. It was only fair, after you ribbed me about the meatless Christmas meatloaf I'd made for us. I never could convince you of how delicious my famous recipe really is. You've hated it since that first time I made it for you, even compared it to toxic waste, if I recall. I really should have been more offended by that comment, but you were always so cute when you teased me I could never hold a grudge.

The first time I'd made the meatless meatloaf for you was soon after the Watertown. You remember that, don't you? We were at each other's throats. I swear, I was ready to call it quits, to trade you in for another partner. And then we were attacked, I couldn't speak and you couldn't see. In that deafening silence when you'd stopped breathing all I could hear was the world crashing around me. That was the thing about you, I realized. You would really get my goat because you were always on target. You knew me far too well, and you pushed me to be better. I just wish we hadn't waited so long...

But that is neither here nor there. We can't change the past, can we?

Did I tell you about my new client? You'll have to indulge me. I know you are probably still upset with me for resigning from the Navy, and don't like hearing about the civilian post I took up. But, Sarah, you have to understand. My twenty years were up, and after ... well, I just couldn't bring myself to put on the uniform, the JAG insignia. All I thought about was you, those few weeks before my papers were processed. You know, my uniforms even smelled of you. It just hurt too damn much...

Where was I?

My new client. That's right. She's a young girl, about Chloe's age when you first met her. Her mother passed away. Her step-father is applying for full custody, but Marissa's biological father is refusing to give up his rights. He's not a great guy, her biological dad, he's after the money that's been put in a trust for Marissa as part of her mother's will. But don't you worry, I'll win this one. You know, it makes me happy to work with these kids. Whoever thought I would go into family law? You must be laughing at me. A far cry from the hotshot lawyers I used to be, huh?

I guess I have Mattie to thank for it. And you. I had to move here, to be nearer you. Mattie called this morning, just to chat. She's getting ready for college. It will be tough going, she's still not at a hundred percent, but you know that kid. Stubborn as all get out, and self-sufficient almost to a fault. I wish I'd been able to give her more of a childhood. That was a tough year. With her in recovery, and then getting that phone call about you...

I swear, Mac, my heart stopped beating that day. I don't think it's started up again since. You don't know what happened that night, do you? At least not after your car hit the truck. The police say it was the rain. It was falling heavily that night. Your car hydroplaned into the highway divider, and - well I'm sure you remember that part. You didn't stand a chance. I should have insisted you drive the Lexus, instead of the 'Vette. I sold mine, you know. It's a hazard. Not safe, not worth it.

Seeing you in the hospital bed, I knew you were going to leave me. I felt it, Mac. I felt it. You told me everything would be fine, that we'd be fine, but I knew, Sarah, how could I not know? You and I, we share that connection. I always know where you are. I knew you weren't going to be with me much longer that night, as surely as I know you're with me now. Listening to the ramblings of an old man.

You'd extracted all those promises from me six months earlier, almost to the hour, do you remember? I've wondered since if you'd had some sort of premonition, one of your dreams. You woke me up in the middle of the night after a nightmare that had you trembling, and made me promise that if anything happened to you ... well, I'm not going to remind you of all the things you made me promise you. I wish I'd never done it. I wish I'd packed you away in bubble wrap and kept you safe in a glass case. I wish I'd never promised that I would try to live a life after you left me. But I did, and so here I am.

I can't tell you, Sarah, how much it hurts. Some mornings, it's just so damn hard to wake up. Sturgis drags me out of bed on weekends. Mom stayed with me for six months. I was an absolute bear to her. Even the admiral told me off. I haven't told you any of this before, because I hate it when you're disappointed in me. But it's getting to be so damn hard. I wake up in the mornings and reach for you, sometimes I make two cups of coffee in the morning before remembering that you won't be joining me. I can't cook anymore.

I couldn't step into the kitchen for three weeks without breaking into a sweat, breaking down. Everything in there reminded me of you. The wooden spoon you used to steal a taste from when I was making us Alfredo sauce. The chipped plate you'd dropped that one time I surprised you by coming home three days early from an assignment. The mismatched glasses, half yours and half mine. The blue mugs you used to serve me coffee in for all those years when we were stupid enough to fool ourselves into settling for friendship.

And holding your hand that night, listening to you tell me that I would be alright, that I was strong ... I think you knew, too, that you would leave me. And you made me make all those promises when you broke yours. You'd promised me that I would never lose you. No matter what, you'd said, you'll never lose me. You shouldn't make promises you can't keep, Mac. You shouldn't do that to a man.

But enough of that. Enough of my tears. I'm sorry. I didn't come here to unload all my troubles on you.

I just wish I could hold your hand, hear your laughter, see you smile. Look into your eyes.

So many wishes, I know. So many wishes.

I should go, I guess. It's getting dark, and I can't spend the night here. I'll come back tomorrow, Sarah. In the evening. I have to be in court early in the morning. I know I haven't been to visit you in a while, but it's been a tough week. That new case, my new client, she brought back a lot of memories I was trying to bury. Not healthy, I know, you don't need to get upset. But you know I've never been good at showing emotion, at dealing with this sort of thing. I will try harder. And I will be here tomorrow. I'll bring fresh flowers for you. These ones have lost their colour.

I love you, Mac. Always will.

You know, I think I'll come in the early morning instead of the evening tomorrow. We'll watch the sunrise together.


End file.
